


don't you know that the kids aren't alright

by secretfeanorian



Series: made of starlight [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The climax of this story still has yet to arrive, but for Candaith; his has come and gone and he has not emerged the victor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't you know that the kids aren't alright

_Cold winds blow, but on those hills you’ll find me and I know you’re walking right behind me.  
_

* * *

Rawlind stares silently into the fire in front of her, ignoring the rangers moving around her. It isn’t hard, they’re almost as quiet in motion as she is sitting still. Her heart is still pounding and the blood rushes through her, drowning out all noises outside her own head. (Perhaps that’s why her traveling companions seem so unusually quiet, even for them.)  
  
Despite the whole mess having ended hours ago, she feels as though it has yet to hit her. She feels numb enough that she doubts she would be able to stand if she tried. She can’t shake the image of Candaith falling from her mind and her eyes have remained a noticeable red ever since.  
  
_You fool_ , Rawlind thinks, for hardly the first time. Her thoughts are racing all over the place and she keeps jumping between calling the ranger who had become a surrogate brother to her a fool, and blaming herself.  
  
Dimly and belatedly, she notices that someone has sat down next to her. She blinks around the fog that has clouded her thoughts and tries to focus on the figure beside her. It is relatively unsuccessful and she sighs, loud and long and broken, before burying her face in her hands. Her cheeks are wet and she starts then realizes she must have begun to cry again at some point  
  
“Rawlind?” She hears Lothrandir ask hesitantly, but she doesn’t lift her head. An arm wraps around her shoulders and she unconsciously leans in toward the heat source beside her. Lothrandir doesn’t speak again and Rawlind feel a bit of gratitude swell up. The silence they return to is familiar and yet…not. She wants to break it with a story or **something** , but it feels wrong. Her eyes water, but she doesn’t begin to cry again. Instead, she closes her eyes and once again attempts to banish the events of earlier from her mind. It is equally unsuccessful as any and every previous attempt.  
  
A violent shudder passes through her body and once it has gone, she tenses, expecting…something. The only response she gets from Lothrandir is his arm tightening around her shoulders. The tension, however, refuses to leave her body; stubbornly clinging to her bones. Several minutes pass in this fashion and then Rawlind takes another deep breath and uncurls a fraction. Lothrandir draws in a breath, perhaps to ask a question, but he ends up saying nothing and simply lets out the breath in a rush of air. Perhaps he had only meant to sigh the whole time.  
  
_“Rawlind?” The 21 year old starts from her thoughts, and in doing so, jostles the raven perched on her shoulder. Patchwork lets out a soft, but clearly annoyed caw and flies over to Hawthorn who blinks, but appears too sleepy to protest the raven nesting on his back as he normally would._  
  
_There’s a soft chuckle from the same direction as before and Rawlind looks over; a light blush coloring her cheeks. Candaith is watching her from across the fire, a small smile on his face._  
  
_“Sorry, were you saying something?” She asks, deciding to attempt to ignore her embarrassment._  
  
_Candaith laughs again, and then cheerily repeats himself. “I said you should get some sleep before heading out in the morning.”_  
  
_Rawlind responds with a shake of her head. “I’m not sure I could,” She confesses. She thinks she sees Candaith’s expression darken for a split second before it softens and she’s half convinced she imagined the anger on his face. He scoots over to sit a bit closer to her, his eyes flicking back and forth, thinking, but Rawlind interrupts his thought process before it can really go anywhere. “I just…” She pauses for a moment, unsure of how best to describe her racing thoughts. “I think…things are finally catching up to me.” She doesn’t specify exactly what things are bothering her and doesn’t keep talking. This man is still a practical stranger to her, and she doesn’t want to bear her soul to him._  
  
_Still, the ranger nods, understanding in his eyes. He begins to say something, but then stops. They sit in silence until the fire has gone out and the sky begins to lighten._  
  
_Rawlind stands and stretches, readying herself to head out again and it is now that Candaith finally speaks. He grabs her shoulder before she can mount her horse. “Best of luck to you, Rawlind. Take care of yourself.” He says and then lets go of her arm._  
  
_She blinks and smiles after a moment of hesitation. “Thank you,” She says and then swings onto Hawthorn’s back, Patchwork now perched once more on her shoulder._  
  
_She leaves Weathertop and the Lone-lands with her thoughts still churning, but a fledgling fondness for the ranger making his outpost there._  
  
Rawlind looks up briefly at the sky. The night is clear and calm and Ithil is a vibrant light among the stars. That first meeting now seems so terribly long ago, when in truth it was barely more than a few years past.  
  
Radanir sits down next to her and Lothrandir – leaving Candaith’s usual spot empty – and hands her a bowl of…something. She takes it, but doesn’t start to eat. Her stomach is unsettled at best and she just stares at the…soup in her hands. Her mind is still racing and memories that had been relatively forgotten are now jumping towards the forefront of her mind.  
  
_“Well, look who it is!” An involuntary smile jumps onto Rawlind’s face when she hears Candaith call out his greeting._  
  
_“Hello to you too, ass.” She sends back in response, swinging out of Moondancer’s saddle._  
  
_“What brings you here to my humble abode?” Candaith asks, a hint of a joke in his tone and an eyebrow raised, as he appears out of the undergrowth._  
  
_Patchwork is noticeably absent and there are dark circles under Rawlind’s eyes, but her smile grows wider upon sighting the ranger and she pulls him into a tight hug once they are close enough. She trembles for a moment, then pulls back. Candaith’s face turns serious briefly as his eyes scan Rawlind’s face, but his smile quickly returns and he claps her on the back._  
  
_“Top secret travels of great importance for Strider?” He asks, with a knowing hint in his voice._  
  
_Rawlind shrugs. “More or less.”_  
  
_“Then shouldn’t you be traveling as fast as you can” It’s phrased as a question, but there’s a certain lack of curiously in his tone that contradicts his phrasing._  
  
_Rawlind shrugs again. “Moon could use the break. I could use the break. You’re here. How are things with you?”_  
  
_Candaith’s single raised eyebrow rises a bit more and then he laughs. The two walk back to Candaith’s current camp, Moondancer quietly trailing after them as they begin talking in hushed tones._  
  
Rawlind blinks away the sleep gathering in her eyes and looks around. Ithil is now almost directly overhead. Radanir has gone and the soup in her hands has lost all semblance of heat. Noticing that she is once again paying attention, Lothrandir gently takes the bowl from her stiff hands. She blinks again and looks over at him. He puts it aside, then wraps his arm around her again silently. She doesn’t lean in however and continues staring at the sky pensively.  
  
_“So here it has come and this story begins to draw to a close.”_  
  
_“Hm?” Rawlind looks up from the saddlebags she is packing, but Candaith’s dark expression has already faded._  
  
_His dark thoughts, however, appear to remain as he then asks, “Can you feel it? This tale is drawing to its close. One cannot help but wonder if they will be so lucky as to find their way into the next.”_  
  
_Rawlind’s brow furrows and she sets her bags down onto a nearby rock, focusing her full attention on Candaith. “There is still a fair amount to this tale yet,” She says, “We have not even reached the climax.”_  
  
_Candaith pauses for a moment. He eventually smiles, but it seems tense and doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, of course, you are right my friend. I am simply being pessimistic.” Rawlind remains unconvinced and Candaith sighs. “We all have our role to play…” He draws off and Rawlind tips her head. He sighs again, and then looks at Rawlind, smile gone. “We all have our role to play and I hope only that when I have played mine, the world will be better for my having been in it.”_  
  
_“It already is.” Rawlind says firmly. “And do not talk like that. Speak not of your death until it has come.”_  
  
_Their eyes meet and in that moment, Rawlind **knows**._  
  
She had known. Whether she simply hadn’t realized what exactly she had known or had been denying the possibility – the fact – Rawlind is unsure, but she had known. Candaith had seen his death in the Grey Company and she had seen that knowledge in his eyes in that moment.  
  
_“We must wait for Candaith, I have not seen him come…out.”_  
  
Rawlind forcefully shakes her head and stands, gently pushing Lothrandir off her. “Rawlind?” He asks and she shakes her head again.  
  
“I just need…I just need to…I…” After several failed attempts to explain, he simply lets her go and she hugs him briefly, tightly, before wandering off to sit with Moondancer and Mai. The fire’s warmth has ceased to be comforting or at all welcoming.

  
  
_“Your journey must have been an arduous one, Rawlind, if this is the tapestry of your dreaming!”_  


_“Do not lose sight of who you are, my friend, and do not despair.”_  
  
  
“Goodnight, my friend,” Rawlind whispers and the horse and cat look over at her as one. She waves off their almost worried looks and dries her eyes.  “I hope only that when I have played my part, the world will be better for my having been in it.” She mutters, glancing once more at the sky. Clouds now cloak the stars from view and she feels a cold pit settle unpleasantly in her stomach.

Their climax is still coming. This tale is not yet through.


End file.
